What the hell is up with that?

Before I left I became
reclusive. I didn’t know at the time
that the launch sequence had already begun. I was trying to sober up in so many ways. I started chilling out on the alcohol as well
as the encounters with people that I loved. I think it was the best thing I could have done for myself at the
time. It may never make sense to the
people that loved me but it was all I knew to do. I had to take a step back and look at my
life. The things I found scared the shit
out of me. I didn’t want to be the
person I was. I didn’t want to live that
person’s life. It wasn’t my life
anymore. So I did what anyone with a
used car would do. I sold it to the
highest bidder. Who wants my life? Come and get it. Piece by piece I got rid of it.

 The sequence of events that led me
to my current position in life had been painfully enlightening. I had to give up everything to get to where I
am. It was almost like Hansel and Gretel
leaving breadcrumbs along the way. The
few things I didn’t sell ended up on other people or next to a dumpster in Santa Cruz. I gave
away my motorcycle jacket to a guy in Tennessee
who fixed our car. We were in bumpkins Tennessee
stuck at a Super 8 longing for any state but the one we were in. The guy who helped fix the car was rebuilding
a motorcycle. Here I was with a leather
jacket and no motorcycle and he had the bike but no jacket. I gave him the jacket as a tip. The rest of it ended up at various dumpsters
in California or with people that
would use it. I had stripped myself of
the things that I felt were holding me back. Not only did I give up the tangible things that filled the voids in my
life I gave up some of the best things that ever happened to me.

 I wasn’t happy. I thought I was happy with certain
distractions like the “love of my life”, some of the greatest friends anyone
could ever ask for and a family that would do anything for me. It just wasn’t enough for me. The hunger is there in all of us. Mine was just about to kill me. I became depressed. I didn’t feel that my life was worth two
shits even though I had it all. I had
the woman. I had the friends. I had the family. What I didn’t have was what I had wanted all
my life and never gone after.     When I came to Hawaii I had dwindled down to one pair of pants, three T-shirts, a button up shirt, two
pairs of shorts, a swimsuit, some socks, a few pairs of underwear, a tent, a
telephone and a laptop. I had never had
so little in my life. It all fit on my
body in some precarious fashion. No car,
no home, and no destination was what I was living. It was the most freeing thing I had done
yet. All of the things I used to think
were important were all gone. No car,
just hitchhike. No home, just pitch a
tent on the beach and live there. No destination,
think of a new one. I was creating a new
life. I was on my way to Tibet
to save that tiger finally. The fact is
that no matter where you are or what you are doing a part of us always wants
something else. It’s just a matter of
how much.

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